


An Indulgence of Teeth

by WhyNotFly



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Hunt!Daisy, They're best friends they just both need an outlet, consensual cannibalism, descriptions of cannibalism, featuring Jon's magical healing factor, lots of blood and gore, set in season 4, where they won't hurt anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyNotFly/pseuds/WhyNotFly
Summary: “Can you tell me about it?”  Jon asks as Daisy fits her teeth around the slope of his neck, around the bulge of his shoulder, around the too-quick pulsing veins of his arm.  His wrist is the perfect mouthful, thin and bony and trembling against her tongue.  Always trembling.  No matter how many times she indulges.  The brain is truly slave to the body.  Jon can know that he will not die, he can watch wide-eyed and pale as his flesh knits itself back together over and over, he can stumble back to his Institute and wash off the dirt and the blood and run his fingers down the line of claw marks that only exists now in his memory and he can know that he asked for this.  But here, in the heat of bodies and the drip of her saliva on his face like tears, he always trembles with fear.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	An Indulgence of Teeth

“Can you tell me about it?” Jon asks as Daisy fits her teeth around the slope of his neck, around the bulge of his shoulder, around the too-quick pulsing veins of his arm. His wrist is the perfect mouthful, thin and bony and trembling against her tongue. Always trembling. No matter how many times she indulges. The brain is truly slave to the body. Jon can _know_ that he will not die, he can watch wide-eyed and pale as his flesh knits itself back together over and over, he can stumble back to his Institute and wash off the dirt and the blood and run his fingers down the line of claw marks that only exists now in his memory and he can know that he _asked_ for this. But here, in the heat of bodies and the drip of her saliva on his face like tears, he always trembles with fear.

Daisy bites down hard, and the fragile bones of his wrist crack between her teeth.

She likes the sheen of sweat that’s left as Jon pants his way through his body going into shock. Cold and salty, glittering like the wild black of his eyes. She watches him as she chews through the flesh of his arm, watches as the flush of exertion from running through the woods slowly drains out through the blood seeping into the soft forest floor beneath them. He is growing colder, and she is growing warmer, the little pieces of Jon settling hot and heavy in her stomach.

“Tell me,” Jon forces out again, desperate and blinking fast against the world turning out of focus around him and he asks for so very little. There is compassion in a quick kill, in a fox pouncing straight for the throat. Daisy will never give him that. So she will give him this.

“I could smell you.” Daisy leans in close and runs her nose up the front of Jon’s chest, skin to skin amidst the ruins of his tattered button up. When she reaches his collarbone, she sinks her fangs in just enough to dip beneath the skin and drag it back. “I could sense you, fire bright and bubbling and stumbling and afraid. I could _hear_ you.”

“What do I smell like?” Jon whimpers at the feeling of her fingers tightening around the torn remnants of his arms.

“Like paper,” Daisy says, resting her forehead against her prey’s and inhaling the hot acid of his breath. “Like dust and dead things. You don’t belong here in the forest, little mouse, you have strayed too far from home.”

“And what do I taste like?” Jon whispers as Daisy leans down and dips her mouth into the wellspring of his shoulder.

“Like freedom.” When she speaks, Jon’s blood drips from her mouth and rolls down the arch of his nose. “Like rivers, like air. I can hear it, your heart beating inside me. Can you not hear it?”

“I can’t hear anything,” Jon whispers, his words bleeding out like his body against hers. “I can’t feel anything.”

Daisy’s belly is full and heavy, too heavy, too cold. It drags her down until she is curled against Jon’s body, pressed into the heat of his open wounds slowly leaching into the evening air. Even now, she can already feel the blood begin to scab, the gaping holes of flesh knitting back together and she knows tomorrow will find them both quiet and whole and clean, masks over monsters. Skin over red and glistening muscle.

“Is it quiet?” She asks and Jon closes his eyes and hums, and she can see his chest already rising strong again, his heartbeat slowing down, steadying. She can hear it, in the hinge point of her jaw. A constant awareness of the steady pulse of life around her, waiting to be devoured. 

“It was,” Jon answers. She waits for him to say they should stop this dangerous indulgence, stop feeding the creatures that lurk so close to the surface, closer still each time he lets her take him into herself, mouthful by steaming mouthful. She waits for him to say _we should be better._

But all he says is, “yes.” 

“For a moment, it was quiet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Literally wrote this in an hour for some cool peeps who were talking about the idea, but this is 2021 Spade and he's chill and cool and doesn't obsess over works before he posts them. So there. Lookit me, getting a headstart on my new year's wordcount goal.
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr @apatheticbutterflies if you liked this, I'm very nice and friendly and post lots of writing :D


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